A Haunting We Will Go
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: Darkwing and Launchpad investigate reports of strange sounds at an abandoned house.


Darkwing Duck  
A Haunting We Will Go  
By Lucky_Ladybug66  
  
Note: I got the idea for this story from a really cute Disney story called "GhostChasers," about Mickey, Donald, and Goofy battling ghosts in an old house :) BTW, the ghosts in this story are the same as the ones in the Disney story :)  
  
  
Bushroot opened the door of the old, decrepit house. No one had been in the house for years, and Bushroot decided that it would be the perfect place for his new laboratory.  
  
Unseen to Bushroot, three ghostly creatures watched him set things up.  
  
"Well, what do you think of this, Scat?" the first said.  
  
The second rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Perfect, Spike!"  
  
"Another poor, unsuspecting soul to scare," the third said mischievously.  
  
"Well, let's start, Skeets!" Scat exclaimed. They picked up their heavy chains and rattled them loudly.  
  
Bushroot jumped. "What was that?" he muttered, glancing around. Seeing nothing, he shrugged and turned back to his lab table.  
  
The ghosts rattled their chains again, and this time made spooky groaning sounds. Bushroot whirled around. "Now, look you . . ." He found himself facing absolutely nothing. Bushroot slapped himself. "Am I awake?" He paused. "Or going crazy?"  
  
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH," the ghosts moaned.  
  
Bushroot gulped. "I don't like this," he said to himself. "Maybe this isn't the best place for my lab!"  
****  
Bushroot worked late into the night, with the ghosts occasionally snatching one of the chemical tubes and moving it to a different location or even tapping Bushroot on the shoulder. Eventually Bushroot fell asleep across the table.  
  
The ghosts giggled. "Now let's get him really scared!"  
  
Spike flew around, groaning and moaning, while Scat rattled the chains and Skeets danced across the table.  
  
Bushroot's eyes flew open and he sprang up, backing into the wall. "What? . . . What? . . . What's going on around here??"  
  
Again something tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled around to find nothing. He paused to consider all this and then ran upstairs screaming, while the ghosts collapsed in laughter.  
****  
Darkwing Duck sighed. He was very bored. There were no supervillians at large, and there hadn't been for several days now. He was anxious to solve another crime.  
  
Launchpad looked through the newspaper. "Hey, DW, look at this place!" He showed Darkwing a picture of a decrepit old house.  
  
Darkwing didn't look impressed. "What about it, Launchpad?"  
  
Launchpad shrugged. "This is that old abandoned house that's rumored to be haunted!"  
  
Darkwing snorted. "Launchpad, you know I don't believe in ghosts."  
  
"I don't know, DW, these ghosts could be real," Launchpad mused.  
  
"Ghosts! Ohh, cool beans!!" Gosalyn popped up from behind the couch. "Are you gonna investigate, Dad?"  
  
Darkwing shook his head. "I don't think so, Gosalyn. I'm sure there's nothing really happening there. You know how old abandoned houses become targets for rumors of ghosts."  
****  
Bushroot, meanwhile, was hiding in a wardrobe up in the master bedroom, clutching an old butterfly net. "I dare you to come after me," he whispered, trying to sound threatening, though he was really terrified.  
Suddenly the wardrobe started to rock back and forth. Bushroot grabbed onto the rack at the top. "Hey! This isn't funny!" he yelled. "You could hurt somebody—namely, me!!"  
  
Scat responded by opening the wardrobe's doors. Bushroot went flying out and landed clear out in the hall. He lay still for a few minutes, then leaped up, yelling, "Alright! That's it!" He charged back into the bedroom, waving the net around.  
  
Skeets grabbed the net right out of Bushroot's leafy hands and began twirling it around in the air.  
  
"Hey! Give me that!" Bushroot demanded of the unseen thing.  
  
Spike grabbed the net from Skeets and also twirled it around. "Whatever you say, Bushy," he said, mischievously dumping it over the startled plant-duck.  
  
"Why you . . . you . . ." Bushroot threw the net off, glaring at the air.  
  
The ghosts started laughing. Their laughter echoed off the walls. Bushroot sank to the floor, covering his ears and moaning, "I never believed in ghosts before, but I sure do now!!"  
****  
"DW, where are we going?" Launchpad asked as they zoomed by on the Ratcatcher.  
  
Before Darkwing could answer, they pulled up in front of the old abandoned house. Launchpad gave Darkwing a funny look. "Gosh, DW, I thought you said you didn't believe in ghosts!"  
  
"I don't," Darkwing said briskly. "I got an anonymous tip that strange sounds were heard coming from inside. Probably just some punk kids, but, then you never know . . ."  
  
As Darkwing and Launchpad came up the walk, Spike, Scat, and Skeets watched from the front window.  
  
"Ooooh, it's the famous crimefighter, Darkwing Duck!" Skeets announced.  
  
"And his sidekick, Launchpad McQuack!" Scat added.  
  
Spike rubbed his hands together. "This is gonna be fun!"  
  
When Darkwing and Launchpad reached the porch, Launchpad knocked on the door. Darkwing pulled his sidekick's hand away. "Launchpad! You'll alert whoever's inside!" he chastised.  
  
"Oh. Sorry, DW." Launchpad looked embarrassed. "But how are we going to get in if someone doesn't answer the door?"  
  
Darkwing shrugged. "I'm sure the door isn't locked."  
  
As he went to turn the doorknob, the door suddenly gave a loud creak! and fell in, with Darkwing and Launchpad on top of it!  
  
"Whoa! That was some ride," Launchpad commented, getting up and dusting himself off.  
  
Darkwing jumped up, muttering, "Now we've probably scared off whoever's holed up in here!"  
  
Launchpad shrugged. "Oh, I don't think so, DW. I bet the ghosts are lonely."  
  
Darkwing scowled.  
****  
Bushroot was still upstairs when Skeets decided to have a little more fun with him. He climbed in an old suit of armor that was clutching a lance and charged. Bushroot jumped out of the way and ran down the hall, Skeets quickly advancing on him.  
  
"He won't be able to go through walls in that suit," Bushroot rationalized, quickly opening a door and running inside the room, slamming the door shut. He leaned against it, gasping for air. "That was a close one," he said to himself.  
  
Suddenly the tip of the lance poked through the door. Bushroot stared at it, horrified, then turned and ran to a door at the other end of the room and dashed out, only to find himself staring at Skeets in his suit of armor.  
  
"Hello," Skeets intoned eerily, again raising the lance. Bushroot gulped, turned, and ran down the hall. He ran around several corners and through several rooms, and then ran headlong into a door that was just being opened by Scat. Bushroot saw enough stars to rival any Looney Tunes cartoon and slowly sank to the floor.  
****  
Shortly after, Launchpad came down the same hall, fascinated by the age-old decor. He looked down and stopped. "Hey, DW, this almost looks like Bushroot!"  
  
Darkwing appeared from behind a statue and walked over. "It is Bushroot, Launchpad!"  
  
Launchpad kneeled down on the floor next to the limp Bushroot. "Really? Looks like the poor guy's hurt, DW."  
  
Darkwing snorted. "He's probably the one behind the strange goings-on! Keep an eye on him, Launchpad, while I check to see if his minions are around!" Darkwing disappeared into a nearby room. Launchpad watched him go, then looked down at Bushroot again. "Hey! Wake up," Launchpad said, gently shaking him on the shoulder.  
  
Bushroot stirred, waving Launchpad's hand away. His eyes slowly opened and he blinked several times. "What? What? I'm awake." He glanced around, then did a double take upon seeing Launchpad. "You?? What are you doing here?"  
  
"DW and I came out to investigate reports of strange sounds," Launchpad replied.  
  
Bushroot groaned and slowly sat up. "Boy, I wish I'd known about those reports before I came here. There's ghosts running rampant!"  
  
"Ghosts!" Launchpad repeated. "I knew it!"  
  
"Yeah. One of them hit me with the door." Bushroot rubbed his head.  
  
Just then Darkwing came out of the room, gas gun held high.  
  
Bushroot waved his leafy hands wildly. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! I haven't done anything!"  
  
"He's telling the truth, DW," Launchpad said. "He couldn't have done anything; he was out cold!"  
  
Darkwing didn't look convinced. "Well, of course he'd tell you he hadn't, Launchpad!" He turned back to Bushroot. "Would you mind telling me what you were doing on the floor?"  
  
Bushroot shrugged. "Hey, what can I say? I ran into a door. You caught me at a bad time!"  
  
"You ran into a door?" Darkwing repeated. He eyed Bushroot suspiciously. "Are you sure you weren't knocked out by one of your own creatures? Or maybe you were just lurking, waiting for the right time to jump out and attack."  
  
Bushroot was annoyed. "None of my plants are here, Darkwing, and why would they hurt me anyway? And why would I be lurking? I've got nothing to hide!"  
  
Darkwing nodded skeptically. "Suppose you did run into a door. Why were you *running,* Bushroot?"  
  
"If you must know, I was running from the ghosts," Bushroot replied, "and one of them decided to open the door just as I was going by."  
  
Darkwing rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. You expect me to believe that??"  
  
"What if he's telling the truth, DW?" Launchpad spoke up timidly. "What if there are ghosts?"  
  
"I don't *believe* in ghosts, Launchpad!" Darkwing said with exaggerated patience. He paused. "But maybe we'd better investigate a little more, just in case Bushroot isn't behind the strange goings on."  
  
Bushroot looked angry. "I'm not! I'm an innocent bystander!"  
  
Darkwing snorted. "We'll see."  
****  
"Wow, DW, this sure is a fascinating place," Launchpad commented as they wound their way through the halls. "I wonder what it would've been like, to have lived here when it was new?"  
  
Darkwing scowled.  
  
As Launchpad paused to look at an old painting, a panel in the wall suddenly opened up and he fell through.  
"Launchpad, do you see anything suspicious?" Darkwing asked, oblivious to the fact that his sidekick had disappeared. "Launchpad, stop fooling around!"  
  
"I don't think he's here," Bushroot said.  
  
Darkwing glared at him, then suddenly whirled around, looking in all directions for his missing sidekick. "Launchpad? LAUNCHPAD!!"  
  
Darkwing grabbed Bushroot and shook him. "What did you do with him?"  
  
Bushroot shoved Darkwing back. "Hey! Easy on the foliage! I didn't do anything to him!"  
  
Darkwing crossed his arms and glared at Bushroot defiantly. "Ha! A likely story."  
  
"Well, use your brain! I was right here when he disappeared." Bushroot looked equally defiant.  
  
As they continued to quarrel, Bushroot suddenly caught a glimpse of something behind Darkwing and with a scream, leaped into the startled duck's arms in fright.  
  
"What is the matter with you??" Darkwing demanded, dropping Bushroot unceremoniously on the floor.  
  
Bushroot shakily pointed to the stuffed jaguar that had suddenly come to life.  
  
Darkwing rolled his eyes and slowly turned around, making sure to keep a grip on Bushroot's hands so he couldn't suddenly attack. When he saw the jaguar, his mouth dropped open and his eyes went big. "Alright . . . alright . . . let's not panic," he said quaveringly. "Let's just move away very quietly and maybe he won't bother us."  
  
Darkwing and Bushroot inched cautiously across the room, while the jaguar watched them, growling. Suddenly it sprang at them with a loud roar. They had no choice but to leap up on the chandelier and stay there precariously while the jaguar paced below and Darkwing tried to load his gas gun with one hand. "Do you have any answers for this?" he demanded, gesturing toward the growling cat.  
  
"Oh please! Let's not start that again!" Bushroot groaned. He paused. "Look, we're going to have to work together to solve this. I don't like the idea any better than you do, but nothing's going to get solved if we're arguing all the time!"  
  
Darkwing sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're right." He looked at the gas gun. "Where is the setting I want?" he muttered.  
  
Inside the jaguar, Spike laughed. "This is the most fun I've had since 1956!" He let out another loud growl and sprang up.  
  
As Darkwing continued to fumble with the gas gun, Bushroot wrapped his vine-like arms tighter around the arms of the chandelier and stared down at the jaguar nervously. "Will you hurry up? This thing could come crashing down any minute!"  
  
Darkwing ignored him and concentrated on what he was doing. Finally he heard the familiar click and sighed in relief, then pointed the gun at the jaguar. "Eat onions, evildoer!" The little white vegetables came flying out of the gun and straight at the jaguar. Spike smirked and simply leaped up on the couch, poised to strike.  
  
"This is it!" Bushroot moaned. "We're done for!"  
  
"Nonsense! Darkwing Duck doesn't know the meaning of the word defeat!" He brought the gun up and pressed a few buttons with his beak. Then he again pointed it at the jaguar. This time a huge cloud of fog went up, covering the entire room. "Come on!" Darkwing jumped off the chandelier. "We'll escape while he wanders through the fog!" Bushroot doubtfully disentangled himself from the chandelier and followed.  
  
Spike chuckled. Being a ghost, he could see through the fog. With a loud growl, he sprang again.  
  
Darkwing gasped. "YEOW!"  
  
As he and Bushroot ran madly through the fog, Bushroot suddenly ran through a narrow opening. "It's the door!" he exclaimed.  
  
Darkwing's eyes lit up. "The door!" He rushed through and then slammed it shut before the jaguar could follow. "Whew, that was a close one!"  
  
"Too close," Bushroot agreed. "Let's find your sidekick and get out of here!"  
  
"Not until we find out what's happening here," Darkwing insisted. "That's what I came here to do, and I'm not going away without some answers!"  
****  
A few minutes later, Darkwing was inspecting a wardrobe. "That's strange," he commented. "The doors seem to be stuck." He pulled harder.  
  
Suddenly the doors flew open, and half the ocean came out. Darkwing and Bushroot gasped, horrified and puzzled.  
  
Scat came out on a surfboard. "Hey! Surf's up!"  
  
"Ooooh, Darkwing, you're all wet!" Skeets laughed.  
  
Darkwing coughed up some water and ducked out of Scat's way, muttering angrily.  
  
"How are we going to get out of this one?" Bushroot exclaimed.  
  
"I'll think of something," Darkwing said before being swept up by another wave.  
  
"It'd better be fast, before we both drown!" Bushroot said as he went under.  
****  
Launchpad, meantime, was wandering through a bedroom. "Gosh, I wonder where DW is," he mused. He glanced at a dresser with a mirror on it. "Hey! That's not me!" he gasped, seeing Spike in the mirror and rushing over. "Are you one of those ghosts?" he demanded.  
  
Spike didn't say anything, but instead made faces at Launchpad through the mirror. Launchpad tapped on the glass. "Hey! That's not very polite!" Suddenly he heard a loud crack. He stared at the mirror in horror. "Oh no! I broke the mirror! Now I'll have seven years of bad luck!" Spike laughed, coming out of the mirror and pushing Launchpad forward. The pilot looked around, baffled. "Owww . . . How'd I get stuck in this thing? Where's the ghost? DW, HELP!!!" he screamed.  
  
Suddenly all three ghosts appeared, their eyes glinting at the thought of more mischief.  
  
"Hey! Spike! Skeets! Let's give Launchpad a little ride!" Scat said.  
  
The other two ghosts rubbed their hands together. "Yeah!"  
  
Launchpad gasped. "Aw, cmon guys, you're not really going to shove me down the stairs, are you?"  
  
The ghosts responded by pushing Launchpad and the dresser out the door and to the edge of the staircase.  
  
"Alright! One . . ."  
  
"Two . . ."  
  
"Don't do it, fellas!" Launchpad interrupted. "Please! I'm too young!"  
  
"THREE!" The ghosts shoved the dresser overboard, laughing. "Have a nice trip!"  
****  
Darkwing and Bushroot were laying in a small puddle of water, motionless. Suddenly Darkwing stirred, coughing up water. He leaned back against a pillar and sighed. Bushroot woke shortly after. "So, what do you think now, Darkwing?" he asked. "Do you still believe there's no ghosts?"  
  
Darkwing looked at Bushroot defiantly. He didn't want to admit that it appeared that there really were supernatural beings roaming through the house.  
  
And he didn't have to.  
  
"YEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOWWW!"  
  
Darkwing looked around. "That sounds like Launchpad!" he declared.  
  
"It is!" Bushroot exclaimed, pointing. "He's flying through the air!"  
  
"Look out below!" Launchpad yelled. Darkwing and Bushroot scrambled out of the way, just as Launchpad crash-landed into a huge bag of flour.  
  
As the flour settled, Launchpad slowly got up, entirely covered with the stuff. "Gee, I never thought I'd wind up like this!"  
  
Darkwing and Bushroot came out from behind a rack of fruit. "Launchpad, you look like a ghost yourself!"  
  
Launchpad studied himself in the mirror. "Hey, I do, don't I?"  
Darkwing's eyes lit up. "That's it!" he exclaimed.  
  
"What's it?" Bushroot asked.  
  
"We can get rid of the ghosts by pretending to be ghosts ourselves!"  
  
"I don't know, DW," Launchpad said doubtfully. "Why would ghosts be scared of other ghosts?"  
  
"These ones will be! Trust me, Launchpad!" Darkwing dove into the flour.  
****  
Spike, Scat, and Skeets came down the stairs, laughing hysterically.  
  
"I can hardly wait to see how he landed!" Scat chortled.  
  
"Yeah!" Skeets added, "It must've been one of the biggest crashes he's ever had!"  
  
The ghosts stopped short at the end of the stairs.  
  
"Spike," Scat whispered, "what are those . . . those awful white things?"  
  
"They're moving!" Skeets added.  
  
"They must be ghosts," Spike said shakily. "Let's get out of here!"  
  
They turned to run, then stopped. "Wait," Skeets said. "Why are we scared of ghosts?"  
  
"I don't know, but we are," Scat said hurriedly. "Now, come on! Let's go!" The ghosts disappeared through an open window, screaming.  
  
Once they were out of hearing range, Darkwing started to laugh. "Ha! I told you it would work, Launchpad!"  
  
Launchpad was relieved. "I'm sure glad it did, DW! Can we go home now?"  
  
"Just about." Darkwing turned to Bushroot. "You never did tell me what you were doing in this place to begin with."  
  
Bushroot shrugged. "Hey, I was looking for a new place." He glanced around nervously. "But I don't think I'll stay here. Those ghosts might come back."  
  
Darkwing sighed. "I suppose before long you'll cook up some new scheme that's not quite legal."  
  
Bushroot sighed too. "Hey, that time I grew counterfeit money, I was just trying to provide for my plants. And when I tried to destroy Christmas, it was because no one would let me do my shopping in peace."  
  
"That's no excuse," Darkwing replied.  
  
Suddenly a loud growling sound erupted. Darkwing and Bushroot froze. "Stay calm," Darkwing said. "Darkwing Duck defeated that jaguar once, and Darkwing Duck can defeat him again!"  
  
"Jaguar?" Launchpad repeated. "Relax, DW. That wasn't a jaguar. That was my stomach!"  
  
Darkwing slowly turned to look at Launchpad, embarrassed. "Oh. Of course. I knew that," he bluffed, while Bushroot cracked up. 


End file.
